


Where the love song plays

by mybluebucketofsnow, Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Series: Stories 2001 - 5000 words [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dramatic Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Feels, Fiona is the best aunt, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Mixtape, Musical References, No Humdrum only Music, POV First Person, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow Friendship, Pining, Protective Simon Snow, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz, Song Lyrics, There's nothing better than vintage, Walkman, Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/pseuds/mybluebucketofsnow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: “Baz wants to kill me,” I say to Penny as casually as I can, trying not to show the painful dread crawling inside of me.Penny gives me a side glance, taking a sip of her tea. “You always say that. But he never does.”Simon is told Baz wants to kill him. This time it's a very real and imminent threat. A deadly magickal artefact is involved. While Penny doubts that Baz is really that evil, Simon decides to confront Baz on his own.The main question remains the same. What exactly is Baz plotting? And is he even plotting at all?
Relationships: Fiona Pitch & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Stories 2001 - 5000 words [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101023
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and love to [ Theawkwardbibliophile ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theawkwardbibliophile/works) and [shushu_yaoi_lj (llamapyjamas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj) for being our amazing betas. We always have so much fun in the google docs together.  
>   
>  **Spotify playlist[ Where the love song plays](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ELAbg6JIqZeW506UjCvbj?si=F4pu9RH8QG2JATGv-N4mWQ).**

# SIMON 

“Baz wants to kill me,” I say to Penny as casually as I can, trying not to show the painful dread crawling inside of me.

Penny gives me a side glance, taking a sip of her tea. “You always say that. But he never does.”

Of course, I was suspecting Baz before. I always knew we would fight one another in the final battle. But I never thought he would plan the whole thing so carefully. That he’d be so relentless. Like killing me is just another thing on his to-do list. Like I don’t even matter enough to give me a fair fight.

I remember how serious the Mage’s face looked, just an hour ago when he gave me the news. “Your roommate is planning to kill you,” he told me, “And he is planning to do it soon.”

I give Penny a gloomy look. She might be assuming this is my usual freaking-over-Baz thing, but I know this time it’s different. This time it’s _for real_.

“The Mage told me that Baz met his aunt in London and got an artefact spelt with dark magic from her,” I explain, my voice still shaking. “It can erase my powers. It can even destroy my soul.” It hurts to say it out loud. It hurts to know that Baz would do it, that he would do it to _me_. 

“And how does this magickal artefact look exactly?” Penny asks sceptically. She is always sceptical about things she doesn’t know.

“It’s a Walkman.” I say, “A cassette player.” I add the last part seeing Penny’s confused face. She obviously doesn’t know what a Walkman is.

She quietly chuckles, “Maybe Baz just wants to listen to music.”

“No,” I say firmly. I look down at my empty plate, “He doesn’t like music.” I am surprised how bitter my voice sounds.

“He plays the violin,” Penny says, her gaze sliding carefully over me. As if I need a reminder about what Baz does and doesn’t do.

“First of all, he only says he plays the violin.” I say with annoyance, “I never heard him play.”

“Well—” Penny starts, but I interrupt her.

“And it doesn’t mean he would listen to Normal’s music on a Normal’s device!”

“I guess,” Penny says absently, then she shrugs. “Normal's music is weird anyway.”

“No, it’s not!” I roll my eyes. It hurts to know that my best friend doesn’t care about the music that I like. Because for me, it’s not _just_ music. Those are songs that helped me get through the hardest moments in my life.

And I have nobody—absolutely nobody who would share them with me.

“You just never gave it a try,” I say quietly.

“And you never gave a try to all the books I was begging you to read,” Penny says with a grin, and I hate that she is right. 

“Books are different,” I reply quickly, but Penny just sighs. We stay in silence for some time, while I gather the remaining crumbs of scone from the plate with my fingers. Slowly, my thoughts drift back to Baz.

“The Mage’s spy said Baz and his aunt were very secretive while passing the device,” I say. 

Penny still doesn’t look convinced. “Why would Baz want to kill you _now_?” She asks after a pause. 

“Because the Old Families will strike soon.” I reply immediately, no doubt in my voice, “That is what the Mage told me.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything that the Mage says,” Penny points out, leaning back on her chair and crossing her arms.

“It’s not only about the Mage! When Baz went to London two weeks ago it was suspicious. He never goes to London without a good reason. And he never stays there for long. I even started to worry—” I cut myself off.

_Focus on the topic, Simon._

“He definitely wants to kill me. Ever since he came back, he’s been behaving strangely.” I say, shifting on my seat.

I can feel his eyes follow me everywhere. They have this new expression that I am not able to understand fully.

As if he is looking for the best moment to press that damn button of the cassette player and kill me.

“Strange how?” But before I have a chance to describe all the small changes in Baz’s behavior, including him having a new posh haircut, that he got in London, Penny makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

I push the empty plate away. If Penny doesn’t want to help me, then I don’t need her to. I can do everything by myself.

I stand up. “I have to go.”

“Where? I thought we could go to study in the library together.”

“Ehhhh,” I mutter, “Not today, sorry. I need to go to my room.”

Penny narrows her eyes. “Why?” She asks, “If you want to talk to Baz, he isn’t there yet. He has football practice today.”

I shoot Penny a glance. Of course, I _know_ that. I always know where Baz is. (Except when he sneaks out to go to London to get a deadly magickal artefact from his aunt to kill me.)

“His practice is till six,” I say. “He will be back soon.”

“Simon,” Penny glares at me, “Please promise me you won’t go through his things.”

I look at her wide-eyed. Sometimes Penny has the best ideas. Of course, if Baz hides something it should be in our room. It can’t be in the Catacombs.

“I repeat, don’t go through his things.” She says sharply, “It’s unethical and gross. And Baz will find out.”

“It’s self-defence!” I don’t understand why I have to explain it to Penny as if it’s not _apparent_.

She adjusts the frames of her glasses, “Let’s assume for a moment that Baz does have this magickal artefact. Don’t you think he is intelligent enough to hide it in a way that you will never find out?”

“We will see!” I tilt my chin up. Penny might be the smartest person in our year, but when it comes to discovering Baz’s evil plots, I definitely know better. 

She sighs, “Simon, just talk to him. I believe it might be a misunderstanding.”

 _Talk_. As if Baz and I are capable of talking. As if he is interested in anything I have to say. He always looks down on me because he is smart and posh and handsome. Meanwhile, I— I am just a person he is planning to kill. To prove himself to the Old Families or just to show off in front of his evil aunt.

“I should go,” I say to Penny. I clench my fists tight. It’s time to show Baz that I am more than he expects me to be.

I almost run to our room, jumping up the stairs. I don’t have much time. It’s nearly half past six and Baz will be back soon.

Luckily it’s not my first time going through his things. I know the routine by heart. First, his wardrobe with his neatly arranged clothes. Unfortunately, I always get distracted by the way his clothes smell. I stop for a moment taking a deep breath in, sliding my hand over the soft fabric of his uniform. (I have no idea what it’s made of, but it always feels so much better than mine.)

Next is his desk. I throw each drawer open one by one, but they are just full of his notebooks and posh stationery items.

I leave his bed for last when I am almost entirely desperate. It’s so carefully made that I am afraid to touch it. I know if I leave the smallest wrinkle, I will never be able to bring it back to the same state of perfect arrangement.

I stretch my hand and almost physically push myself to turn over his cushion and— _bloody hell_. I gasp for air. The Walkman is there, along with half a packet or crisps.

He didn’t hide it at all. I mean maybe he did but... Under the pillow? Together with salt and vinegar crisps? That’s ridiculous.

I carefully take the deadly device in my hands. What kind of old crap is it? It looks like something you’d buy on a garage sale for one quid. Of course, such a weird old model can be used only for peculiar evil spells!

For a second, I wonder why there are headphones attached? Can it be—

Behind my back, the door bangs, and I jump up. Baz stands at the door frame looking at me with his eyes narrowed. He probably just took a shower, his newly cut slightly wet hair falling in a perfect wave over his face. His eyes slide over me and he closes a door with another loud bang.

“What the fuck were you doing on my bed?” He strains the question though his clenched teeth, but then he notices the Walkman in my hands and his eyes go wide.

Something inside of me drops. “What is this thing?” I take a step closer, pushing the Walkman right under his nose.

His pale cheeks go slightly pink, “None of your business!” He moves quickly, trying to catch my wrist with his hand, but I jump backwards.

“Not so fast,” I say, giving him a careful stare. He looks freaked out. I can see the panic in his eyes.

My insides go cold. So it’s true. He _was_ planning to kill me. 

“Take a step back,” I say slowly pointing the Walkman at him, “Or I will push that damn button.”

I have no idea how this device works. But when Baz follows my order obediently, I know that I am on the right track.

“Calm the fuck down, Snow.” He hisses, “What is your problem?” He tries to use his superior tone, but I can hear the tension in his voice.

“You,” I say, “Always you.”

I have no idea what to do next. I can’t press that damn button. I just can’t. Because I am not like him. I can’t kill so easily.

“Do you hate me so much?” I ask pathetically.

For a moment, Baz’s face shifts, but he quickly gets a grip.

“You are not important enough to hate,” he says with a smirk.

I shut my eyes. Of course, Baz is right. For him, I am just an annoying roommate, an obstacle on his way to conquer the world. My hand slightly trembles and before I know it my finger accidentally slides, pushing the button down. I shrink inside expecting something horrible to happen, but—

Instead, I hear a love song playing.

 _My_ favorite song.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, here is Spotify [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ELAbg6JIqZeW506UjCvbj?si=F4pu9RH8QG2JATGv-N4mWQ) we made for this fic.  
>   
> 

# Two weeks earlier. 

# BAZ

I'm not sure what prompted me exactly. I suppose even though I see Snow every day, I still don't feel enough connection with him. 

And no, I don’t mean that only because he spent three years dating Wellbelove and years before that pinning after her. That's not it.

I know practically nothing about Snow when he's not at school. But what I do know is that he loves music and I doubt very much he got that fascination at Watford. We don't have any creative after school clubs anymore, not since Mother passed away.

Before the internet was banned at school, I would hear Snow listen to music on his laptop. He always had his headphones on. But at least my vampiric hearing is good for something. (I’ve heard him snog Wellbelove as well a few times. That was a less than convenient experience.)

Simon is always singing softly in the shower as well. I stay up every night and listen to his voice, beautiful and melodic. (It's less creepy than it sounds.)

Some of the songs he listens to are rather beautiful. Unfortunately, I myself am not familiar with modern music. Besides, my personality will never be described by anyone as ‘cool’.

I had to change it. I had to learn what _cool_ music is.

That is the reason why I am now standing in London in front of my aunt. Fiona dates musicians. She has the knowledge I lack. (Confidence as well, if I am being completely honest here.)

“Did you get it?” I ask and hope she won't question my request. 

Fiona hands me a Walkman. Even I know what that is and that it’s _ancient_.

“Isn't that a _bit_ old?” I try not to state it as an accusation. After all my aunt is doing me a favour. 

“It’s vintage — it cost me 250 pounds with friends and family discount,” she declares, seeing my surprise. Did she buy it from her boyfriend? “All the cool kids have it now and it has high quality sound.”

I turn the Walkman in my hands. It does look cool. Maybe turning to Fiona with this request wasn’t the worst idea. My aunt might be ridiculous and dresses herself as such. Nonetheless, one can never accuse her of poor music taste or not knowing the coolest Normal trends.

“Thank you,” I say. “It will come in handy.”

“It sure will. ” Fiona smirks for some reason. She obviously wants to know more.

“Great,” I hesitate. How much can I reveal to Fiona without her natural paranoia kicking in? “Are there any cassettes to go with it?”

What I am trying to ask her is whether or not she got me the songs and the bands I asked her for. 

It’s embarrassing really. They were _all_ love songs. I am hoping my aunt will think I am simply being melodramatic. (That’s what she usually calls me anyway.)

“I made a mixtape with every song on your list.”

“Mystery of Love too?” I clarify. That is Simon’s absolute favourite song. He would listen to it on repeat for hours. Sometimes he even mumbles it in his sleep.

“Yes plus I added a few of my own favourites that would go well with the rest of the songs. It’s inside,” Fiona points to the Walkman. “Interesting choice of songs, boyo.”

“Yes, well— ” I shrug. And then give Fiona a glare. What the hell? She is well aware that I know close to nothing about contemporary music. And I doubt that the Kishi Bashi I practise on my violin, which my stepmother calls ”needlessly morose”, could be considered _modern_. 

I don’t blush. I don’t have enough blood in me for that. Unfortunately, Fiona’s eyes are as sharp as her tongue.

My aunt raises an eyebrow at me, “Basil. Have you met a bloke?” 

I swallow. “Something like that.”

“I added Nick Cave’s Into My Arms to the tape,” she tells me as if that is supposed to mean anything in particular.

Perhaps she notices my utter lack of reaction. Fiona smirks, “Play it for him, and if that bloke has a set of ears and eyes on him, he is going to fall deep.”

I am not hoping for that. I know Snow will never love me. Still, I wish… Well I am not entirely sure what that is. I just want to listen to the songs _Simon_ likes.

“Come on,” Fiona pulls on my arm, “I’ll drive you back to school.”

* * *

When I get back, I hide in the Catacombs for a few hours. 

I sit down on the ground, lean against the stone wall, close my eyes and listen to each song carefully, letting the melody and the lyrics overtake all my senses. 

Simon and I will never be truly connected. I know. This music won’t be something we will experience together openly. (He doesn’t even know I am listening to his favourite songs.) 

And yet right now it feels that way. We are sharing our feelings. Every love song is a sting to my undead heart. And It is worth all the pain. 

I try to imagine what Snow feels when listening to each of these songs. I know he is thinking about Wellbelove and how deeply he loves her. And it should break me completely. 

Instead, I see this as another connection to him — his love, even though it is not for me and never will be. We still get to have _this_. 

I feel tears running down my cheeks and somehow that makes me smile. Even though this is a different kind of torture, I welcome this pain. It makes me feel closer to Simon.

I return to our room after he is sound asleep. “Sound” might not be the right word. 

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Snow whimpers — he’s plagued by nightmares, we both are. I wish I could soothe him. I don’t. He wouldn’t want that from me.

I do not bother taking a shower. I’m too spent emotionally. I change quietly into my pyjamas, fold and place my clothes carefully on the chair. 

Then I take out my Walkman and go to bed. I won’t get any sleep. Not for a while at least. I missed Simon while I was in London visiting my aunt.

The moon is out and his tawny skin looks grey, almost like mine. It doesn't take anything away from his beauty.

Even though it is dark, my eyes are capable of seeing in the darkness better than a human’s eye. I take all of Simon in. 

He's sleeping shirtless each night, the cover always ends up on the floor. Simon is beautiful.

His curls are a messy crush on the cushion. I wish I could touch them, touch _him_. 

As I watch the muscles of his shoulder flex when he shifts on the mattress, I feel my cheeks burn and close my eyes shut, stiffening another sob.

When ‘Mystery of Love’ comes up, I keep wondering what Simon feels when listening to it. It’s his favourite. 

_The first time that you touched me_

_Oh, will wonders ever cease?_

Is that what he thinks when he’s with Wellbelove? I don’t _want_ to cry. However, what I want and what I get are entirely different things.

He wanted her for years. And _I_ wanted _him_. I still do.

_Hold your hands upon my head_

_'Til I breathe my last breath_

When the War is over and he's finally killed me, Snow and Wellbelove will ride off into the sunset together. He’ll be happy then. 

I listened to this song so many times, I know the lyrics by heart. I turn the Walkman off and put it under my cushion. 

_How much sorrow can I take?_

I mouth the words softly, my eyes glued to Simon and let this bittersweet pain lull me to sleep.

* * *

As the weeks go by, I listen to the songs every night, watching Snow and crying myself to sleep.

I tend to listen to the ‘Mystery of Love’ on repeat. By now I've learnt how long it takes to rewind the cassette tape back to the beginning of the song.

It is baffling to me that this is his favourite song. It doesn't strike me as a Wellbelove song. Perhaps there is a private story I'm missing out on. An inside-joke I'm not privy to.

Nevertheless it is the song Simon sings every night in the shower. And now I am listening to it.

Simon Snow might never love me but at least I get to finally feel closer to him. 

I spend weeks watching Snow, trying to decipher every emotion he has that he’s never shown around me.

Some of the songs he enjoys are sad; sadder than one would expect even from him. 

Despite the popular belief, Simon Snow is not a happy person, not by far. I know that better than anyone with Bunce as the only exception. Perhaps Wellbelove has seen that as well. I wouldn't know. And in any case, she broke up with him recently.

I feel so guilty that I’ve never realised the vast amount of anguish Simon is harbouring.

The few snippets I heard from him listening to music or singing in the shower cannot compare to hearing the full lyrics. 

There's so much suffering under the surface. Is that because Wellbelove never loved him enough? Has he felt it?

I never wanted to come between them. Well, maybe I did. But not to _hurt_ Simon. I never wanted to hurt him. All I ever wished for was that he’d notice me, choose me. 

He will never do that. 

Simon has been miserable for weeks now, with dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes that I desperately tried to believe are boring. There is nothing boring about him. 

I think Simon is hurting because he and Wellbelove broke up.

I hope they get back together and that she will love him enough. If that is what he needs to stop being this miserable, I hope that he gets that. I’d do anything to make all of Simon’s dreams come true, to give him what he wants. 

There is nothing _I_ can do though is there? I am not the one who can make him happy. It’s her. It’s always been her. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 💙


End file.
